Despite my arm leaving my eyes, all I saw was darkness.

Grandmother did what Grandmother did. And that was whatever she wished, whenever she wished.

As was her right, of course.

When people spoke about her, they didn’t refer to her by name. They simply sniffled and a tear dropped down. Having endured a life of instilling grey hairs upon everyone younger than her, it was only appropriate she’d do more than retire to her chamber where a servant was still tearfully holding up a tea pot she said she’d return to once it’d sufficiently cooled.

That was eight months ago.

An admittedly long brewing time, yes … but to traverse the corners of the world while her darjeeling matured to the point of tar was only fitting for one so accomplished. To see and hear first hand how her legacy was viewed across the continent was as much her right as it was her obligation.

Naturally, I held only the deepest affections for her.

Aside from the fact she was family, she was also the previous owner of Starlight Grace. Because for all her many accomplishments, her ability to safeguard that which every giant magpie and roadside hooligan wished to pilfer was one of her greatest.

… Or so I thought.

I groaned as I viewed the inglorious fate of my sword’s successor.

It’d practically been bartered … and without any haggling, by the sounds of it!

On one hand, to be so utterly dismissive towards the treasured artifacts of our kingdom was certainly a high mark regarding her royal standing … yet on the other, some things couldn’t be simply tossed away like apple cores for fruit slimes!

Not a lot, yes … but our heirloom swords were certainly one of them!

“Excuse me,” I said once my groan had subsided. “Are you telling me that this wrinkled old lady of no relation to me paid for lumps of bark … with a fabled artifact of my kingdom?”

The clockwork librarian raised a brow.

The beginnings of a frown did nothing but clash with her vibrantly pink hair.

“Those lumps of bark served as both guardians and tourist attractions. The first treants were gifted a thousand years ago to my master by the elves in recognition of his strength. They help shepherd the forest, keeping the golden leaves captured forever in keeping with the splendour of the Autumn Court.”

“So they make for passable tea tables. This is clearly an unfair trade. An enchanted sword is not suitable payment for furniture. This is sheer robbery.”

“I assure you, it’s the other way around. The treants demanded nothing less than copious amounts of blood to help nourish the soil. To accept only a sword is a travesty.”

“In that case, you’ll need to offer your gratitude as well as all previously mentioned. If your forest had absorbed a drop of that woman’s blood, it would have become a wasteland as wrinkled as her forehead, to say nothing of your own after having spent enough time on the ground.”

I lifted Starlight Grace, silencing the reply to come.

“My apologies, but as much as I enjoy critiquing a performance to the end, I lack both the patience and the rotting fruit. Know, however, that I am thoroughly unmoved with what Ouzelia has to offer.”

There was no shifting in posture from the librarian before me.

Even so, the eyes narrowing towards my sword spoke more than any stiffening of shoulders could.

“... Ouzelia has nothing to offer its critics,” she replied, her tone shorn of the expected remorse. “Or to outsiders. Whatever your accomplishments to date, they are irrelevant. You possess no tale in this place.”

“Excellent. Because other than a burgeoning cult in my name, I intend to come and go as the breeze. Yes, even if that is a slow trotting pace. I have places to be. And all of them involve comparing the softness of my cheeks against the pile of imported cushions waiting to be judged by me.”

Fleur raised her stolen sword in a pose I’d seen often.

Copied from the stances of knights as they readied themselves to lunge towards their foes, it was a strike so telegraphed that I knew to expect nothing short of a projectile sneeze directly into my face.

“I can hurry you away, if you’d like,” she said lightly. “You should know that I can already do more than mirror the techniques that intriguing human displayed. I am able to better them.”

I rolled my eyes as required.

“Please. To claim you can impersonate how that woman abuses heirloom artifacts is one thing. But to even dream you can replicate her guile is the most insulting thing you’ve said. A lack of chivalry is not something you can copy. It is something you are.”

A smile answered me.

“I am an exceptional learner.”

And then–

The clockwork librarian twisted around, easily meeting the swing of the scythe towards her back.

Her hand reached up and caught the falling shaft, holding it in place. But there was no note of triumph. Only a knitted brow as she immediately turned her eyes to me, sword raised to bat away the paired strike which Coppelia’s distraction demanded. A low blow as predictable as it was destined to be swatted aside along with an innocently whistling princess.

No such attack came.

Starlight Grace remained firmly in my hand … but not the fistful of gold scooped from a nearby hoard.

“... [Princess Throw]!”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Eyes instantly widened in bewilderment.

After all, this was hardly a rotten fruit leaving my palm. And yet for defeating someone who possessed only a smidgeon of my grandmother’s guile, it was more than appropriate.

Dawning Summer rose at once to swipe the coins away.

Already, the eyes behind the sword were upon my next action. For as talented as I was in hurling small objects, to a clockwork doll whose reactions were matched only by another, here was an attack which was less a minor inconvenience and more a desperate distraction.

Thus, a stolen sword swept through the air.

And then … did absolutely nothing as the hand which held it froze alongside a stupefied expression.

Ohohohohoho!

Here it was! An attack so unchivalrous it permitted no defence!

Indeed, for my sword to clash against another belonging to my family was utterly unthinkable. Not only was it highly inappropriate, but the amount of damage would be inexcusable.

Fortunately, I had no need to use Starlight Grace as a shield.

Not when basic avarice was far more reliable.

The folly of amateur and seasoned schemers alike. They would see gold traded, wasted and covered in blood. But they would sooner send a blade through their own back than what they connived to gather.

The result–a single moment of hesitation.

It was more than enough. The librarian winced as a smattering of coins was clumsily met by the back of her hand. A grievous error. And one she realised even before the first coins clinked to the ground.

She turned. And then saw that in her other hand, only she was contesting Coppelia’s scythe.

My loyal handmaiden was busy wearing a telltale smile. A thing almost as ominous as the fingertip she reached out.

“[Coppelia Flick]!”

Ping.

An expression of grief was all her victim could manage as the large golden key protruding from her back suddenly turned … over and over again.

Like a windmill met by a sudden gale, it blurred as it rotated. A distinct whirring noise filled the air which I’d only ever heard from Clarise’s observatory.

I was aghast.

“Coppelia! Did you just consign your colleague to explode? … Because she hasn’t written a confession yet!”

“Ahaha~ don’t worry, she’s not going to explode.” Coppelia casually stepped away and waited. “... Yup, definitely not going to explode! That only happens when you spin our keys wrong.”

“I wasn’t aware there was an option other than wrong.”

I peered between Fleur and the least rocky piece of ground to lay down on.

While not quite exploding, she clearly wore an expression which indicated she wished to.

“Our keys are highly delicate instruments,” she answered, her voice more or less a single sigh as her key slowly wound down into individual clicks. “They serve as a vital cog to ensure our continued ability to function. But they carry instructions as well, each twist and turn precisely calibrated to result in a specific prompt which disregards our standard limitations.”

“I see … and what happens when it’s violently spun like my horse’s mane after a light drizzle in the rain?”

“I currently have 18,268 instructions queued, most of which are to immediately clean the romance bookshelves.”

I gasped at the unexpected revelation.

“A-Amazing! To think that tailored housekeeping is a predetermined command! Is there a specific way to wind your key to pour a pristine chamomile tea?”

“Don’t be silly.” Coppelia idly waved my query away. “There’s no way something like that would–”

“1 turn 43 degrees clockwise. 2 turns 27 degrees counterclockwise. 1 turn mmffffngh–”

“Ahahaha~” Coppelia wrapped her hand around her colleague’s mouth, all the while swatting at her golden key until it was once again spinning to an invisible gust. “Oh boy, looks like someone needs their repairs! An unrefusable command to pour perfect tea? What a weird and super annoying thing that’d be!”

I rushed forwards at once, planting my hands upon the gagged librarian’s shoulders.

“T-Tell me the rest!” I demanded while shaking her furiously. “Tell me and I shall grant you asylum in my kingdom! All your crimes will be pardoned! I … I will even raise you to nobility! What is the secret?! How do I direct Coppelia to pour tea on my every whim?!”

I paused to allow a response.

For a moment, Fleur stood utterly still, indignation written on every inch of her face.

Fuoomph.

It was likely still there when she flopped down.

Like a salmon surrendering itself to my dinner plate, she crashed heavily to the ground. Dawning Summer was freed from her grip as plumes of fresh dust marked her silhouette for all to admire when the Cult of Juliette came to requisition this mountain as its official headquarters.

“Aaaand that’s what happens when you have too many instructions,” explained Coppelia brightly.

A huff of indignation came in response, muffled by the ground.

“This is unseemly,” said the unmoving librarian, earning no argument from me. “Neither of you have cause to hinder me. This is for the financial safeguarding of the Hidden Library. Something the Kingdom of Tirea stands to benefit greatly from as well.”

“My kingdom has no need for a maddened dragon to assist it. It is enough to have those who understand the difference between loyalty and gall. If you’re fortunate, perhaps you might find a dictionary now that you’re consigned to cleaning shelves for the foreseeable future.”

I could almost hear the nose wrinkling.

“The shelves do not need cleaning.”

“Then I suggest you see to it with vigour. It is a worthy cause, and far more generous than you deserve. I shall be frank. You are a severe downgrade from the horrors I’ve had to endure. Not only is your scheme middling, but you’ve neither a sister’s robes nor a lich’s public nudity to threaten my vomit. You make for a highly underwhelming final act.”

The back of a head quivered.

After significant effort, Fleur just about turned her face to reveal the corner of a smile.

“... Yes, I suppose that much is true.”

Clink.

Suddenly, a gold crown rolled to a stop before me.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

Then another. And another.

Coins glinted as they came forth like a gentle wave, prodding the back of my boots and Coppelia’s waiting palms.

At first.

Pwiiissshhh.

Because a moment later, the gold tumbled down as fast as Coppelia and I could inventory it for official purposes and absolutely nothing else.

The sound of shifting coins began to reverberate like the dancing of forest leaves. But this was no mysterious breeze causing the hum against my ears.

No … it was an enormous tail wreathed in emerald scales as it slowly came alive.

“A curious thing, isn’t it?” came a musing voice from the floor. “To dragons, the sound of battle is but a note in a lullaby they have long grown accustomed to. But to hear a single coin rolling away from their hoard is a screech which haunts their dreams.”

The movement ceased, as shortly as it began.

Silence reverberated throughout the cavern.

And then–

A lidded eye slowly opened, revealing a black slit nestled amidst a pond of shining jade.

A dazzling sight. All the more so when the green caught the reflection of the golden hoard underneath.

The image was so clear that I could count the individual coins. And then they were lost as the colours merged. One ebbing while the other flowed. The jade diminished like spring leaves caught by autumn’s grasp. And what had glimmered on its own account now shone with the telltale hue of greed.

A golden eye blinked.

The next moment–all the world shook.

For a dragon had woken from its slumber.